


I’m the Satellite

by oneoneandone



Series: My Heart Outside My Body [1]
Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:40:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28184787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneoneandone/pseuds/oneoneandone
Summary: Lindsey meets the littlest Thorn
Relationships: Lindsey Horan/Emily Sonnett, Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Series: My Heart Outside My Body [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2067675
Comments: 12
Kudos: 117





	I’m the Satellite

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _“don’t wake her”_

There’s a soft knock at the door, and Tobin looks up, seeing the woman she loves like a younger sister standing there, looking into the room with an eager expression on her face. And she smiles at Lindsey, and waves her in with her free hand.

“Hi,” her teammate whispers, a little louder that Tobin would like, and she lifts a finger to her lips.

“Shhh,” Tobin says with a smile, not wanting to discourage her friend, “Christen’s sleeping, I don’t want to wake her.” And Lindsey nods seriously, looking over to the bed where Chris is curled up on her side, covered in a light hospital blanket, before looking back to the older woman and mouthing a sincere apology.

But Tobin just grins, and beckons the midfielder closer. “You want to see?” she asks, even though she already knows the answer. And Lindsey nods enthusiastically where she stands, in front of the rocking chair where Tobin has been sitting and just looking down at the tiny bundle in her arms for the last hour. She suggests that Lindsey wash her hands first, and presses a gentle kiss to the bundle while they wait.

“Here,” the older woman stands carefully when Lindsey’s hands are clean and dry, and motions for her friend to take the vacated seat. She slowly, gingerly, lowers the tightly wrapped bundle into the other woman’s arms, smiling at the soft noise the baby makes at the change. “Lindsey, meet Caroline,” Tobin introduces her daughter, chest swelling with pride.

And Lindsey, for a moment, can only just stare down at the beautiful baby girl in her arms. Can’t tear her eyes away from the delicate features, the littlest dark brown tufts of hair escaping from the mint green cap she wears, the perfect little fingers curled around the edge of the blanket. The midfielder looks up at her friend—this brand new mother—in awe. “She’s so beautiful,” Lindsey whispers, “Tobin, she’s so perfect.”

And Tobin beams, so pleased that someone else can see it. Can see what a miracle she and Christen have created together.

“That name though,” the younger woman can’t help but tease even as she strokes a finger over that perfect button nose, “how did you ever get Christen to sign off on that?”

The standing woman grins. “Those post-labor endorphins are everything they tell you,” Tobin laughs softly. “All I did was suggest it and Chris started crying about how perfect it was—our little Caroline Naomi.” She smiles, thinking of the moment again. How beautiful it had been, looking down at her wife, their daughter in her arms. They’d both been in need of a wash—Christen sweaty and exhausted, the baby sticky with blood and amniotic fluid, remnants of her birth. But to Tobin, they’d been the two most beautiful people in the entire world.

Lindsey laughs softly. “Your mama is going to be so mad when all those hormones clear out and she realizes your mommy named her after UNC,” she presses a kiss to the baby’s brow. “But don’t worry, your mommy can sleep on my couch until she’s forgiven.”

Tobin glares down at her with mock anger. “Give me back my baby, Horan,” she holds out her hands, and grins as the younger player carefully returns the infant. “Your auntie Lindsey just got stricken from the godmother list, yes she did,” she nuzzles her daughter’s cheek. And the laugh—a loud guffaw—escapes Lindsey before she can stop it.

“Toby,” they hear the soft voice from the bed, and turn, seeing Christen there, bags under her red-rimmed eyes, paler than Lindsey has ever seen her before, hair pulled back into a messy braid. But none of that can take away from how absolutely, jaw-droppingly beautiful she is, this new mother.

Tobin crosses the room, mindful of the precious bundle in her arms. “Hey, baby,” she presses a kiss to her wife’s brow. “Lindsey stopped by, I told the team they could send one person, and she must have won whatever contest they devised to decide who it would be.”

Lindsey just nods. They don’t need to know yet that there was no competition. That she hadn’t given any of their teammates the option or the opportunity. The benefit to being one of the most intimidating women on the field was that when she said something was going to happen, she was very rarely challenged. “Everyone sends their love,” she tells them, but she can tell they’re only half listening to her. Their entire world has collapsed into this little sphere, their tiny, perfect family.

It’s time for her to leave, Lindsey knows. But she can’t quite make her feet move just yet. She wants to stay a moment longer, soak up the sight of all this love and joy, let it surround her, inspire her. She watches as Tobin lays the mewling bundle—the little girl’s fist waving above the edge of the blanket, almost a goodbye—in her mother’s arms, and sees the look that passes between them, two of her best friends in the whole world.

“I’m going to head out,” she steps closer, pulling Tobin into a tight hug before leaning down to kiss Christen’s cheek, to stroke that tiny little nose once more. “But I just wanted to tell you that we love you and we’re so happy for you. And the team wants pictures, as soon as you’re ready to share.”

Tobin walks her to the door of the room, thanking her for the flowers and the soft little lamb that’s already been tucked into the corner of the bassinet next to Christen’s bed. She hugs the younger woman once more, whispering a fond “love you” as they pull apart. But Lindsey doesn’t let her go. She can’t. Not yet.

She stands there, just outside the hospital room with a hand clutched to her belly, right over the empty ache that has bloomed into existence just about the first moment Tobin had laid the baby in her arms.

“You okay, kid?” the older woman asks, concern in her voice.

Lindsey just nods. “I’m—,” her voice is shakier than she’d like, “I’m good. I just have the strongest desire to go home and have a long talk with my girlfriend.” She gives Tobin an embarrassed look, blushing pink at the intensity of the other woman’s gaze.

But Tobin only laughs softly, giving Lindsey a knowing grin. “Watch out,” she teases, “that’s how it starts.”

And Lindsey hugs her again, squeezing her tight before stepping back and smiling widely.

“That’s what I’m hoping,” she whispers softly, eagerly, and then, in a blink, she’s gone.

**Author's Note:**

> “Cecilia and the Satellite,” Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness


End file.
